


The Wedding

by till_owlyglass



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jean is the worst babysitter ever, M/M, eventual smut I just haven't decided exactly what yet, snk kink meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:50:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/till_owlyglass/pseuds/till_owlyglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jean invites Marco to stay the weekend for his sister's wedding, he is excited that he may finally get to do something about the crush he's recently developed for his best friend. What he doesn't count on though, is being forced to spend the entire weekend babysitting Eren Yeager, his nine year-old brat of a cousin.  Between dealing with his huge embarrassing family, trying to spend some time privately with Marco, and Eren's constant habit of attracting trouble, it's safe to say that Jean has never felt so flustered before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [WRITTEN FOR THIS PROMPT ON THE SNK KINK MEME](http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/2124.html?thread=2580556#cmt2580556)

Jean Kirschstein stretched out in his underwear atop his bed and groaned. It was the third week into Summer vacation and already the season was promising to be one of the hottest on record. The scorching heat, which left him feeling constantly sticky and overheated, combined with the stress and activity of preparations for his sister’s wedding in less than five days, meant that Jean had been acting rather grouchy of late - grouchier than usual, that is. Beside him on the bed his phone buzzed with a text message.

**From:** Elizabeth  
 **10:26pm**  
 _Mom says will you come down when you have a minute_

Sighing, Jean hauled himself off the bed, pausing to pull on some sweatpants and a t-shirt before trudging downstairs. Jean’s mother and two older sisters were sitting in the dining room, countless papers spread out across the table, double-checking that everything was in order for the big day on Monday.

“The florist will arrive with the flowers at ten but the people at the hotel said there’s no need to worry about meeting them or anything because they’ll sort it out. But if you like, I could run down sometime before the guests start arriving to make sure everything is okay?” Elizabeth, the younger of Jean’s sisters was saying, doodling on the corner of a sample menu as she spoke.

“That’d be great, thanks. I’d hate to think that if they delivered the wrong arrangements or put them in the wrong places we wouldn’t notice until the last minute.” Holli, the bride-to-be, responded as she shuffled through a pile of RSVP cards.

“Ah, there you are, Jean.” his mom said, noticing him loitering in the doorway and beckoning him forward, “Holli has something to ask you.”

“Mike just called.” his eldest sister began, referring to her fiancé, “Turns out Gunter Shulz - one of his work colleagues who was invited to the wedding - was rushed into hospital today with an appendicitis. Obviously he won’t be attending so now we have a space to fill at one of the tables. I thought I’d offer it to you. Do you have a friend you’d like to invite?”

“Or a date?” Jean’s mom added, smiling amiably. Elizabeth, still absorbed in defacing the menu, snorted derisively but refrained from making a comment. Jean took no notice of his sister’s scorn nor his mother’s suggestion he invite a date. He’d already decided who he was going to invite.

“I’ll call Marco and see if he’s busy.”

“That’s nice, dear. We thought you might like to have someone your own age there to keep you company.” his mom said, reaching over to yank the menu out from under Elizabeth’s furiously scribbling pen. His sister was unperturbed though, she merely shrugged and resumed drawing on the back of her hand.

“It shouldn’t be a problem.” Holli murmured to herself, pulling the seating chart with its little post-it note nametags out from under a pile of papers, “I’ll move some people around so he can sit at the same table as you.”

“Thanks.” Jean started for the door.

“Oh, Jean?” his mother called after him, “Remember, the family are all arriving tomorrow and I need you up bright and early. So don’t spend all night watching television or using the computer or whatever it is you do up in that room of yours.” Elizabeth let out a sudden burst of laughter and Jean shot her a murderous look; and they said _he_ had a dirty mind. His mom was looking at him calmly, awaiting his reply, seemingly unaware of what her daughter’s knowing laugh implied.

“Who’s arriving tomorrow?”

“Grandma and Great-aunt Mae, Aunt Carla and Uncle Grisha, Eren and Mikasa.” she listed, counting them off on her fingers.

“In that case, can I invite Marco to stay the weekend?” Jean asked.

His mother’s brows furrowed just slightly, “The house will already be very crowded, sweetie. Where would he sleep?”

“Well, Uncle Grisha and Aunt Carla will obviously be sharing one guest bedroom, and I’m guessing Grandma and Great-aunt Mae will be sharing another. Where were you planning on putting Eren and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa will share with Elizabeth and Eren will stay in the room next to your bedroom.”

“Then Marco can stay in my room. I’ll get one of those folding camp beds from the garage.”

Jean’s mom pursed her lips, “He can stay, but only if it’s okay with his mother.” she finally relented. Jean felt like jumping for joy, but instead he uttered a cool, collected ‘good night’ and returned to his room.

Once alone in his room, Jean succumbed to his excitement and threw himself down on his bed. He tried to tell himself that his delight was perfectly natural - Marco was his best friend, after all, and there was nothing wrong with being excited to have your best friend spend a four day weekend at your house. But then again, lately Jean’s feelings for Marco had been confused and strangely…more than friendly. Jean could pinpoint exactly when things started to get weird.

 

A couple of months ago before school broke up for Summer, Jean and Marco were caught in a sudden downpour while they’d sat outside after lunch and had ran into the boys changing room to get dried off. Jean had scrubbed his sodden hair vigorously with a towel and when he resurfaced, Marco had taken one look at him and snorted with laughter.

“Your hair is everywhere!” he had giggled, “Here, I’ll sort it out for you.”

Before Jean could even react, Marco had stepped forward and his fingers were in Jean’s hair, stroking and smoothing. Marco was close, uncommonly close. While some may have found his sudden nearness uncomfortable, to Jean it felt strangely natural…nice, even. From this vantage point he could admire the rich warm brown of Marco’s eyes, could even count his eyelashes if he’d taken the time. A quivering droplet of rain slid from the dark hair at his temple and down the side of his face. Marco’s brows were knitted together and the tip of his tongue poked just slightly between his teeth as he concentrated on brushing Jean’s hair back into place.

_'His eyelashes are so long and dark. Almost like a girls. I never noticed before how pretty his eyes are.'_

Wait. What? _Pretty?_ What the hell kind of word is that to describe your best friend with? Jean had felt his cheeks start to burn, a sure sign that a tell-tale blush had painted his face. He stepped back before Marco could notice.

“Um, thanks. I’ll just find a mirror now, I guess.” Jean muttered, reaching up to run his hand nervously over the hair at the back of his head.

If Marco noticed anything untoward about his behaviour then he didn’t show it, “Okay then.” he’d said laughingly, flashing one of his trademark grins.

And it didn’t stop there. Frequently Jean found himself thinking of Marco _that_ way; delighting in the sound of his easy laugh, reflecting on how cute the freckles peppered across his cheeks were, even going so far as to physically shiver when Marco stood a little closer than usual or when a part of his body accidentally brushed fleetingly against his.

None of this was intentional, of course. In point of fact, Jean was truly freaked out by these thoughts and feelings which came unbidden and he couldn’t quite seem to get rid of. He’d never felt like this about another guy before and the possibility that he might be gay scared him a little. The possibility that he was gay for Marco scared him all more; Marco was his best friend and, in truth, his only true friend. Jean didn’t want to end up doing something stupid and frightening him away. To reassure himself though, he told himself that his odd behaviour was all down to hormones and that things would settle down soon enough. Thankfully, so far Marco was seemingly oblivious to Jean’s internal struggle, remaining his usual happy-go-lucky self, as enthusiastic as a puppy to spend time with Jean.

 

Jean picked up his phone and dialled Marco’s number. He knew it was probably bad manners to call so late at night, but he was so excited that he couldn’t help but call right away to arrange the details. The phone barely got to ring twice before Marco answered and Jean’s stomach did a little flip at the sound of his voice.

“Hey Jean! How’s it going? I was just thinking of you.”

“Yeah? Nothing bad, I hope.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I was just about to start reading the book you bought me for my birthday. Then you called.”

“Ha, spooky. Hey, maybe we’re telepathic!”

“Maybe.” Marco chucked.

“Listen, I need to ask you something. You know how my sister is getting married on Monday? Well, my mom says I can invite a friend to the wedding and I thought of you. So…yeah, uh, how about it? If you’re not busy, that is.”

“Thanks, Jean, that’s so thoughtful of you! I’d love to!” Jean inwardly let out a sigh of relief, he had no idea who he would have asked if Marco had been busy. Probably Connie. He was glad he didn’t end up having to resort to him - Connie could be a bit of an idiot at times.

“Great! Uh, I was also wondering if you wanted to maybe come over tomorrow night and stay for the weekend? Some of my mom’s family are staying over for the wedding but you know how big my house is so there should be plenty of room.”

Jean wasn’t exaggerating or being bigheaded when he said his house was big, he tended to call a spade a spade. His family were pretty well off due to the fact that his father held a minor yet well paid position in the local government and his mother was the boss of a small but successful publishing business; as a result, their house was rather affluent with numerous bedrooms and bathrooms, and even its own pool in the spacious back yard.

“I should warn you though,” he continued quickly, “My dad’s relatives will be visiting on Saturday for this big family barbeque my mom has planned, she wanted us all to get together for a sort of reunion before the wedding. My family is pretty big and they can get a little crazy and in-your-face at times. So if you’d rather not stay over then that’s fine. But I’d really like it if you came, I need someone sane with me. If you want, you could come up on Monday morning before we leave and travel up to the hotel with us. Or you could-”

“Jean,” Marco interrupted gently, “You’re rambling again. It’s all fine, I’d love to stay the weekend and it’d be great to meet the rest of your family.”

“Okay then. If you just come over whatever time works best for you tomorrow, I’ll be home all day. My family should be arriving some time in the afternoon.”

“See you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow. Bye.”

After hanging up, Jean went to brush his teeth in the bathroom across the hall. He then stripped back down to his underwear and turned his light off before crawling into bed. He was just teetering on the edge of sleep when his phone buzzed on his bedside table, rousing him. Blearily, he pawed to unlock it and read the text, squinting at the harsh white light emanating from the screen.

**From:** Marco  
 **11:12pm**  
 _thanks again jean i can’t wait for tomorrow!!! goodnight!_

Grinning like an idiot, Jean text back his own excitement and goodnight, feeling a strange, not-unpleasant fluttering in his chest as he did so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for how long it took me to update! I've had problems with my laptop and ended up having to send it back and forward to a couple of computer shops. But I have it back for good now so updates will be more regular.
> 
> I made a playlist for this fic, just a little something with some songs to reflect the general mood of the story. You can listen to it [HERE](http://8tracks.com/tillowlyglass/the-wedding-a-jean-marco-fanfic-mix)

Jean’s mother woke him the next morning, opening his blinds so that the bright morning sunshine shone directly in his eyes, ensuring that he was well and truly awake.

“Ow! Jeez, Mom, do you have to nearly blind me?” he yelped, pressing a pillow over his face.

“Breakfast is ready.” she stated before leaving the room.

Jean sighed. Today was going to be a long and tiring day, what with his mom’s family arriving and all. His grandma and her sister Mae were sweet but they doted on Jean a little too much for his liking, frequently insisting on kissing and hugging him and inquiring whether he had a girlfriend yet. His Aunt Carla and Uncle Grisha were nice and their adopted daughter Mikasa was pretty quiet, but his cousin Eren could be a bit of a pain at times. It had been a year since he’d last seen them though, and Jean hoped that Eren had matured some since their last meeting.

On a brighter note, Marco was also arriving today and just the thought was enough to make Jean grin like an idiot. Marco was going to spend four whole nights sleeping in the same room as him, mere feet away and - actually Jean really needed to tidy his room before he arrived. He didn’t want the other boy thinking he was a slob.

In point of fact, the more he thought about Marco staying, the more worried he became. Despite the other boy’s confidence that everything would be fine, Jean knew perfectly well just how embarrassing his family could be. And what if he couldn’t keep his strange newfound feelings for his friend in check? Several possible awkward situations sprang into Jean’s mind, each far worse than the last. Oh God, the whole thing suddenly seemed a _really_ bad idea, a recipe for certain disaster. Jean briefly contemplated texting Marco to call the whole thing off.

“Jean! Get up now!” his mother suddenly yelled up the stairs, interrupting his panic.

  
After breakfast with his parents and sisters, Jean showered and dressed and was immediately put to work helping his mom put fresh sheets on the beds where the guests would be sleeping. Once that task was complete, he was bullied by Elizabeth into helping her prepare a mountain of vegetables for the meal their mom would be cooking that evening for the family. Then, after being charged with the task of putting extra towels in all the guest bedrooms, Jean finally had some time to himself to get his bedroom looking presentable before Marco’s arrival.

He had only just finished hiding all his junk in drawers and cupboards, and was about to take the opportunity to relax a little when his dad called upstairs, “Jean, Marco’s here!”

_‘Okay, be cool, Kirschstein. Be cool.’_ he told himself before sauntering out his room as casually as possible.

Downstairs, Marco was standing by the front door chatting with Jean’s dad who was seemingly going on excitedly about the football game he had watched on TV last night. Jean rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Marco didn’t know the first thing about football and was only just humouring him to be polite. As well as his customary backpack, the freckled boy had a small black travel bag with him, presumably containing his provisions for the weekend, and also carried a garment bag which he held draped over his shoulder by the hanger.

Marco threw his head back and laughed at something his Jean’s dad said and Jean couldn’t help but smile too. Marco always looked so nice when he laughed, he got the most endearing little crinkles at the outside corners of his eyes and his teeth were very straight and white.

The other boy spotted him hovering at the top of the stairs, and grinned up at him, “Hey!” he called.

Jean returned the greeting as he descended the stairs to stand at his side.

“I was just talking to Marco about last night’s game.” his dad explained.

“It must have been a pretty one-sided conversation considering Marco doesn’t even watch football, Dad.” Jean remarked sardonically.

“Really?” Mr. Kirschstein said, looking puzzled, “Then which kid am I thinking of? I distinctly remember one of your friends telling me he was going to try for a football scholarship.”

Jean let out an exasperated sigh, “Reiner. You’re thinking of Reiner.”

“Oh yeah! Big blonde kid, right? I gotta be honest with you Marco, you don’t look the type who’d be into playing football. They’d wipe the floor with a skinny beanpole like you!” Jean’s dad laughed, playfully jostling Marco’s shoulder.

“Dad, for God’s sake.” Jean muttered, rolling his eyes, getting ready to intervene on his friend’s behalf.

Marco just laughed though, “You should see Reiner’s friend Bertholdt. He’s 6’3 and weighs like, 178.”

“Oh. And does he play football?”

Jean scoffed at his father’s seemingly incessant need to steer every conversation to be about football.

“No, he does track and high jump.”

“Hmph.”

Jean knew the reason for the grunt of noncommittal: on several occasions his dad had dismissed Athletics as “girl sports”, maintaining that real men played football. A few years ago his dad had pressured him into joining the high school football team. In fact, Jean had no particular interest in playing football and had only went along to tryouts to get him to shut up. As it turned out, Jean had barely got his hands on the ball when he was tackled to the ground by Reiner, who had done so with enough force to fracture Jean’s collarbone. At the nurse’s office with Coach Shadis (and a worried Reiner who had trailed after them, apologising all the way) the older man had told Jean bluntly, in no uncertain terms, that he was not cut out for contact sports, being too “delicate boned”. The whole charade had not been completely worthless though, his dad pretty much stopped trying to talk to him about football, disappointedly resigning himself to the fact that Jean was never going to actually take an interest, and Reiner became a sort-of friend. A month or so later, his collarbone completely healed, Jean had tried out for the school’s baseball team and earned a place along with Marco. His dad had congratulated him sincerely enough, for in his eyes baseball was the next best thing to playing football, and vastly better than Athletics.

Holli appeared from the kitchen, Blackberry in hand, “Dad, Aunt Carla just called. They’re just getting in the taxis at the airport and should all be here in about half an hour. Oh, hi Marco.”

“Hi Holli. Thanks for having me at your wedding. I’ve got something for you.” Marco thrust the garment bag into Jean’s hands and shrugged off his backpack. A cream envelope was produced and handed to Holli. “Just a little something from my Mom and I to say congratulations. I think there’s a gift card or something inside.”

“Aw, Marco! That’s so kind! You didn’t have to.” Jean’s sister gave the boy a hug, “Thank your Mom for me please. Or, better yet, let her know she’s invited to the barbeque tomorrow and I can thank her myself.”

“I’m afraid she won’t be able to make it. She’s working at the hospital all weekend.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Well, I’ll put this with the rest of the gifts and after Mike and I open them all together, I’ll be sure to send you both a thank you card.”

“Okay, let’s go put your stuff in my room, Marco.” Jean butted in before Holli could start filling him in on details of the wedding or - God forbid - his dad started yammering about football again.

Jean, conscious of being a good host, reached down to pick up Marco’s travel bag just as the other boy did the same. For a moment they both fumbled for the handle, their fingers tangling, until Marco won, tugging the bag from his grasp with a laugh. Jean was positive that he was blushing again and quickly turned and started upstairs before his dad or Holli could notice.

“So what’s this?” he asked, nodding to the garment bag, “Your monkey suit?”

“Sort of.” Marco laughed.

Once in his bedroom, Jean went to hang the garment bag up in his wardrobe while Marco placed this backpack and travel bag on the bed.

“So who’s arriving today?” Marco asked, flopping down on the bed next to his belongings. He’d been to Jean’s house often enough to feel completely at home, and Jean felt the same way about Marco’s tiny apartment where he lived with his mom.

“My Grandma and her sister, and my Mom’s sister and her husband and kids. Well, Mikasa is actually adopted. Her parents were friends of Uncle Grisha’s but they died in some horrific car accident. Mikasa was with them but somehow managed to survive. There was no extended family so Aunt Carla and Uncle Grisha became her legal guardians.”

“And the other kid is your actual cousin, right?”

“Yeah. Eren. He’s like, nine and fucking annoying as hell. Hey, come down to the garage, I need your help carrying one of those folding camp beds.”

“I take it that’s what I’m going to be sleeping on?” Marco asked as he followed Jean out the room and downstairs.

“Yeah. Not a problem is it?”

“No, not at all. Sounds delightful.”

“Hey! Keep up the sarcasm and you’ll be sleeping outside!” Jean laughed, punching Marco’s shoulder jokingly.

“Now, Jean, is that any way to treat a guest?” Marco countered, cuffing Jean about the head.

As they crossed the kitchen to the door connecting to the garage, Elizabeth, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich, waved briefly to Marco and then turned her attention back to the magazine she was leafing through.

“Is she still dating Thomas Wagner?” Marco asked in a lowered voice once the garage door had swung shut behind them.

“Nah, that ended a couple of months ago.” Jean said as he groped for the light switch, “She’s moved onto some idiot called Dazz now.”

“Dazz? Seriously? Is that his real name?”

“God, I hope so. He’s an even bigger idiot than I initially thought if he actually _chose_ to call himself that.”

Light finally on, Jean went over to the corner where his father stored all their camping equipment and started to move boxes around in search of the camp beds. The Kirschsteins’ garage was large, owing to the fact that it housed three cars; Jean’s dad’s treasured Mercedes, Mrs. Kirschstein’s practical eco-friendly Ford Hybrid, and the old Honda which Jean shared with Elizabeth (Holli, had since moved out and bought her own car, but when she still lived at home the arguments between the siblings over whose turn it was to have use of the Honda were almost constant). Aside from the cars, the garage also stored gardening equipment, Jean’s dad’s tools (he was fond of attempting DIY but more often than not ended up injuring himself and calling in a professional at his wife’s insistence), old sports equipment, and the family’s camping gear (which had only been used once on a disastrous rainy weekend some years back).

“So you’ve met him? Dazz, that is.” Marco said, coming to stand beside him.

“Yeah, once. He turned up at the house a week ago on this crappy little motorbike which looked as though it was going to fall apart at any moment. He was wearing this bulky leather jacket and - I shit you not - little black leather fingerless gloves, and he kept slicking back his greasy hair. Idiot probably thought he looked like someone out of Grease or something. I answered the door and this is what the freak said to me, “Hey, kiddo, is Elizabeth home?” _Kiddo._ Dude’s a dick.”

Marco chuckled, “Wow, Jean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you get so angry over one of Elizabeth’s boyfriends before.”

“I just don’t like being talked to like I’m five. Fucking kiddo, seriously.” Jean grumbled, kicking one of the cardboard boxes aside.

“You do realise that you always get really defensive every time she starts going out with a new guy?”

“No I don’t! I- Whatever. It’s not my fault she has lousy taste. It’s like she attracts losers or something. Oh, here they are. Help me get one out.”

Marco took one end of the camp bed and pulled it towards him as Jean eased it between the boxes he had kicked haphazardly aside to make a kind of pathway. Once it was free, Jean went to pick up his end but stopped when he realised Marco was not moving to do the same. Instead, the other boy was staring back at the corner with the camping gear, biting his lower lip thoughtfully.

“Shouldn’t we maybe tidy up the boxes a little first?” Marco asked.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Jean said, choosing to disregard the fact that his dad was a little OCD about keeping the garage neat and tidy. He couldn’t really think of the possible consequences or repercussions, because right now he was too busy staring at the way Marco was biting his lip, and thinking about how he’d very much like to take it between his own teeth - gently, ever so gently, just enough to make the freckled boy moan.

Marco looked at him and Jean glanced quickly away. _‘Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you? He’s your best friend and all you can think about is sucking on his tongue like it’s a piece of fucking candy. He’s standing right there for God’s sake!’_

“Ready?” Marco said, grasping his end of the bed.

Jean cleared his throat nervously, “Yeah, uh, ready.”

Together they lifted the camp bed and began to shuffle their way towards the door back through to the house. After some fumbling and nearly dropping his end of the metal bed twice, Jean managed to reach behind him and open the door.

“Can I ask you something?” Jean blurted, as they made their slow and careful progress upstairs which had him walking up backwards.

“I think right now you’d better concentrate on not tripping on the stairs and dropping this thing on me.” Marco retorted from a couple of steps below, “You’ve already almost tripped once.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Jean misplaced his right foot on the step behind him, it slid out from under him as he shifted his weight and, for one terrifying second, he was sure he was going to go tumbling forward to the bottom of the stairs, taking Marco and the stupid camp bed with him. Luckily though, Marco, ever the quick thinker, pushed the camp bed forward, effectively using its weight to help him regain his balance. The only downside was that a piece of metal of the folding bed clamped shut on the pad of his thumb, drawing blood and a strangled scream from Jean.

“Motherfucker!” Jean yelled, before he could stop himself.

The word seemed to reverberate throughout the house before settling, leaving in its wake a beat of stunned silence.

“Jean Kirschstein!” came his mother’s indignant shout from somewhere within the vast house.

“Sorry Mom!” he called back over Marco’s sniggers, and then hissed to the freckled boy, “Hey, shut up! It’s really bleeding! She’ll kill me if I get blood on the carpet, she’s just had it cleaned.”

“Then let’s get this thing up to your room quickly and then I’ll take a look at your thumb.”

Jean’s thumb was throbbing badly by the time they dropped the camp bed on his bedroom floor. He brought it up to his face for inspection and was horrified to see that the blood had actually trailed down his thumb and across his wrist, leaving a glistening scarlet trail.

“Oh Jeez, look at the blood!” he moaned, feeling sick at the mere sight of it.

“Let me see.” Marco said, taking his hand and holding it palm-up in his, “Ew! Look at the cut! It’s like a fish’s mouth! Actually, it’s pretty deep too!”

“Ugh, stop it! You’re not helping.” Jean scrunched up his eyes and turned his face away.

“Um, Jean? Are you okay? You look a little green.” Marco’s voice was full of concern, “Hey, it’s okay! I’ll patch you up. Do you have a First Aid kit anywhere?”

“In the bathroom across the hall.” Jean said, keeping his eyes tight shut and focusing with every fibre of his being on not throwing up.

“Okay, come on.”

Marco guided him to the bathroom where he leant Jean up against the counter and put his hand under a cold running tap while he searched in the cabinet under the sink for the First Aid kit.

“You’re not going to faint on me are you?” the freckled boy joked. Jean shrugged, his eyes still closed and the bitter taste of bile still rising in his throat.

“Well, let’s take your mind off it. What were you going to ask me before?”

“About Bertholdt Fubar.” Jean gritted out through clenched teeth.

“What about him?” Marco asked, unzipping the First Aid kit.

“How does Reiner know him?”

“Oh, they grew up together. They went to the same school too until Reiner turned thirteen and his parents moved across town and sent him to Trost instead. Bertholdt stayed on at Saint Maria’s.” Gently, Marco lifted Jean’s hand out from under the water and shut the tap off.

“He’s weird.” Jean muttered, flinching as he felt something soft touch his palm. It turned out to just be a towel though, which Marco used to carefully pat his skin dry.

“Who is? Bertholdt?”

“Yeah. I bumped into him and Reiner at the mall last week. He didn’t say a word all the time I talked to Reiner, just stood there looking uncomfortable like some giant awkward giraffe. I thought he was going to sweat right through the shirt he was wearing.”

“I just think he’s a little shy. He doesn’t seem to have many friends - only Reiner and that girl Annie Leonhardt.” Marco tilted Jean’s hand a little so as to better wrap the band-aid around his thumb, “And maybe he’s worried about people seeing him with Reiner.”

“Why would he be worried about that? Reiner’s his friend, right?” Jean asked, finally opening his eyes and staring at Marco with furrowed brow.

Marco stared right back with an equally confused expression, “Um…because he and Reiner are together. Obviously.”

“Wait, _what?_ Together? Like, _together_ together?” Jean exclaimed.

“If that’s your way of asking if Reiner and Bertholdt are a couple then yes, they are together together.”

“Seriously? Reiner’s gay? He doesn’t look the type.”

Marco tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes a little, “Oh? There’s a type? So tell me, Jean, what does the average homosexual look like?”

Jean stammered for a moment, trying to find an answer.

“I don’t know.” he finally admitted.

Marco chuckled, “Just because Reiner’s big and plays a lot of sports, doesn’t mean he has to be straight. In fact, those things have nothing to do with one another. But you should know, neither Reiner or Bertholdt are officially out yet, so I think it’s best we keep this between us, okay?”

“Okay.” Jean nodded.

He was just about to ask how Marco knew that Reiner and Bertholdt were gay when his mom called upstairs that the family had arrived and to come down to greet them.

“How’s your thumb?” Marco asked, making Jean realise quite suddenly that they had been standing there holding hands the entire time - that they were _still_ holding hands.

“Still hurts.” he mumbled, trying to decide if he should pry his hand away. Or would that bring the fact to Marco’s attention and make things between them awkward? Or maybe Marco would think that stupid Jean was making a big deal out of nothing and get creeped out? Perhaps he should just leave it there and pretend he hadn’t noticed either.

“Aw, poor Jean!” Marco laughed, interrupting his internal struggle, “Let me kiss it better for you.”

And, while Jean gaped at him in barely disguised astonishment, the freckled boy did just that, bringing Jean’s hand up to his face and pressing a kiss atop Jean’s band-aid wrapped thumb.

“C’mon, we’d better go say hi to your family.” Marco said, releasing Jean’s hand and smiling one last sparking smile, before departing the room as if nothing weird had happened, leaving a red-faced Jean to trail after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic I see Holli as just having turned 24, Elizabeth as 20, and Jean and Marco as 17 and 18 respectively. Jean has always been closer to Holli and tends to squabble a lot with Elizabeth (they both tend to irritate and mock one another) but they love each other really and, as Marco observed, Jean always gets very defensive whenever Elizabeth starts dating someone. It was the same with Holli too (seriously, it was MONTHS before Jean stopped side-eyeing Mike whenever he was around!). I don't know the first thing about cars and literally chose the family cars after a brief Google search of 'popular cars in America' (I'm English, by the way, and teenagers here usually start driving later than American teenagers). Brief mention of Reiner and Bertl and their budding relationship because I love them (they won't actually be appearing in this fic). My choices for the names of the schools are purely based on the fact that it has become fanon in Modern AUs for schools to be named after the Walls/Districts (except Sina, of course, because who would fucking name a school Sina?!)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you choose to continue with this fic! Things you have to look forward to in the next chapter: Jean being fussed over by his Grandma and Great-aunt Mae, nine-year-old Eren being a little shit, more awkward feelings for Marco, and a DISASTROUS day out with Eren.


End file.
